


Reunion Tour

by wordplay



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Future Fic, M/M, Rock Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:50:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordplay/pseuds/wordplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Tonight will be different. Tonight this room will be full of people who know him as one of their own. Friends, friends of friends and old acquaintances, people who know that the music he listens to is nothing like what he writes, people who know that the intense songwriter with the high, wistful voice actually likes to dance dirty when he can, likes to lose himself in dance music for hours at a time. He'll sing for them, and he'll tell them about the shows he's just come from, and he'll do an ironic cover or two, and say that it was a great tour, and he's always glad to be home. Most of them won't catch the double meaning, but at least one of them will. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written in serial form as part of [NaBloPoMo 2011](http://wordplayitout.livejournal.com/tag/nablopomo%202011). I wrote a ficlet, or a piece of a new fic, every day for that month. It was terrifying and hard and I was ridiculously proud of myself when it was over. This is the first time I've pulled out something from that month for posting anywhere besides tumblr.
> 
> Because of how it was written, this is a very serial piece of fiction. Chapters 1, 2, 3 and 5 were each posted on their own day. Chapter 4 came into the world as 5 separate parts that have been combined into one chapter for archiving purposes. Any irregularities in tone, then, are probably artifacts of that process.
> 
> That said: this story holds a special place in my heart, because I'm a planner, and this is the only time I've ever really backed into a story in quite this way, and it was scary and fun. I think the set-up is a little unusual for Klaine, and that was always part of the point. I hope it works for you. 
> 
> It was originally described as "the one where Kurt is sort of the love child of Rufus Wainwright and John Darnielle. _Figuratively._ " It was inspired by the song "Reunion Tour" by the Weakerthans, which came up on shuffle when I was looking for writing prompts that month. 
> 
> Thanks to Lucie and Kerry for holding my feet to the fire. And thanks to L and T for making sure they didn't quite burn.

The room is bigger than he's become used to over the last four weeks. Every year he makes these pilgrimages, these sweeps through the Midwest, and every time he comes home from one he has to readjust to New York. To all of it, not just the size of the venue he gets at home, but the noise of the street, the way he can be free with his personality but guarded with his privacy, pretty much the opposite of what he eases back into on the road. He stands with one knee on the piano bench and noodles around, listening to the sound of the notes echoing through the room, cutting through the noise of hissing, slithering cables and banging cases. Finn and Q are still dragging in the gear and he knows he should help, but he stays where he is and pokes at the keys, alone and in combination, and gets his feel for this instrument, for the way the keys respond to his fingers. He smiles at how actively they bounce back.

Four weeks isn't a terribly long time, but tours always take more than it seems like they should. It's just the three of them, him Finn and Finn's buddy Q who is a genius with wiring and management, and they travel in a van with their gear in the back. Kurt's good at selecting a meal from a 7-11, now – years back it had been all they could afford, and now there are times when a drinkable yogurt, a bag of baby carrots and a peeled boiled egg seems like the perfect meal. 

So the food is an issue. The hotel rooms are an issue. He gets lonely, sometimes, and at the end of it that's the real kicker, because he's never alone. Finn and Q are one thing – he's used to them, to the noises and rhythms of them. But the shows are long, because they're small and he can never resist giving them one more song. He knows what they're leaving to, knows why they come, and he does everything he can to give them what they ask for.

His audiences in the midwest are personal for a lot of reasons. The rooms are small – on this tour he'd played 4 basement shows, and he's still worried about what Finn's inability to remember that sometimes he needs to tone it down has done to those kids' eardrums. And he's starting to recognize faces. There's always a few men his age, people he feels like he should probably know but he doesn't, and their faces when he plays are haunted with what could have been. Most of them, though, are kids. Kids who have shown up before and will no doubt show up again, kids who bring him painstakingly bound books of handprinted lyrics to sign next to their little doodles in the margins, and who treat his signature like a blessing on their work. Kids who remind him of the sorrow of himself and Blaine, and of the anger of Dave and Santana. It's better than it was when they'd been there, but it's still not enough, and so he lingers when he's done playing, when all he wants to do is go back to whatever small hotel they're staying at and make a phone call, _the_ phone call. The kids are often timid to approach him, but there's usually one (dressed like him, it's _always_ one of the ones who take the style he'd always thought was iconoclastic and turn it into something they think they can emulate) who walks up first, bold and terrified, and then it's a flood of queer midwestern kids who know one of their own and want to make contact, want to shake his hand and believe that whatever he's made of himself is contagious. 

He wants to believe it is, too.

That's why he does it, after all. Because he needed somebody like himself back when he was them, and there was nobody. He had fought for scraps, and when his dad suggested that one day he'd have to write his own script he never would have thought that it would look like this. But one day he'd sat down at a piano and suddenly it had all poured out, pain and worry and whimsy all together. He'd put something up online, and then something else, and then 2 years later he was a touring singer songwriter. Somehow the kids had found him, and they were pressing for dates in their towns. The first time he played to a small, fervent crowd in the Lima Bean where he and Blaine had fallen in love he'd gone home to his dad's house and cried, and then called Blaine and laughed. (The kids there, they knew all the words, and when he told them that _this_ was the coffee shop in the song, their faces had been stunned as they looked around and tried to see in that space what he saw. And then he saw a pair of girls in the back turn to each other with tears in their eyes. He wonders about them, sometimes.)

Tonight will be different. Tonight this room will be full of people who know him as one of their own. Friends, friends of friends and old acquaintances, people who know that the music he listens to is nothing like what he writes, people who know that the intense songwriter with the high, wistful voice actually likes to dance dirty when he can, likes to lose himself in dance music for hours at a time. He'll sing for them, and he'll tell them about the shows he's just come from, and he'll do an ironic cover or two, and say that it was a great tour, and he's always glad to be home. Most of them won't catch the double meaning, but at least one of them will. 

Tonight he'll play for a room full of New Yorkers, and then he'll go home with one of them, the one who became a New Yorker just the way he did, right by his side, there for everything. Tomorrow morning he'll wake up at home, and Blaine will be there, and he'll cook breakfast and then they'll spend the day talking. Kurt will tell him what he saw and what he did and what he played, and Blaine will ask the right questions and fill him in on everything they've missed and then take him back to bed. There will be time for the message boards, for the long overwrought emails from fans and kids who want just a little more time. There's always time to write – it comes in the strangest places and at the most inconvenient times, that urge to make himself heard. But tomorrow will be about _him_ , stripped all the way bare in every way possible, and he and Blaine will put themselves back together so they can keep living. Blaine's eyes will be warm and welcoming, and he can't wait.

Finn drops another case to the ground, and scrubs at his hair. "Seriously, man. Q has to get the van back by 5. Can you just... are you done with that, yet?"

He finishes with a flourish, and then straightens and smiles at Finn. "Yes. I'll be right there."

"Cool. When's Blaine due here?"

"He'll be here for the show. Just like always." It's better, Kurt had found, if he can just finish the tour _completely_ before he sees him again. It keeps things cleaner, so that there's him-on-tour and him-at-home, and not some weird amalgam of the two. It won't hold forever (more and more requests are coming in from the West Coast, and he's beginning to think that's an unavoidable next step, and it will be good to see Mercedes, anyway), but for now, it works.

And they will always do what they have to do, to make sure it works. Because otherwise, what is it all for?

He stands and gives the piano one last smile, and drapes his cardigan over the piano bench, and then he heads out to haul cables with a smile. Last show of the tour. It's always good to be home.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt sends him a text from Morgantown, West Virginia, his standard "we are now officially in the middle of nowhere; please send reinforcements" plea, and Blaine smiles at his phone and sends one back. "Good luck convincing me you don't want to be there. And go to Sonic for me, please." And then he goes back to work.

\---

Every summer this happens, and they start planning for it at the beginning of the year. The whole thing hasn't become any less complicated since the first time, when Kurt had flown to Indiana trepidatious and excited, Finn in tow because he can't stand the idea of being on a stage alone, and his brother plays the drums. Finn has never played more than half a set, and he writes his own drum lines to go along with whatever Kurt has figured out for piano, and sometime in the middle of the second trip away Finn had finally figured out that he's along for moral support more than anything else. 

So, beginning in February, Kurt looks at Google Maps and considers what his fans have planned for him. It's so ridiculously sweet, it really is, their earnest and eager attempts to be in Kurt's presence. The first time Blaine had read one of the requests that started, "So the school definitely said no way, but my friend's aunt is really cool, and she has a big basement, so would that be okay?" he had looked over at Kurt really getting into stirring a sauce, his whole body shaking with the rhythm of it, and just _marveled_ at how far his boyfriend has come. He's still the most extraordinary boy in all of Ohio, and he doesn't even live there anymore.

Blaine doesn't help plan anymore, not like he used to. The first year he'd sat with Kurt and helped him chart it out, kissed his temple when he started to freak out about what it all meant, and finally dragged him into the shower when he started melting down. He'd bought a roadmap and marked routes in purple highlighter, and one day on his lunch break he'd run down to Duane Reade for a package of silver star stickers so he could mark stops. He'd helped plan the tour so closely that for a while he forgot he wasn't actually going, that he would be staying behind to work, and then when he was on the train back to Brooklyn after seeing Kurt off at the airport it had hit him like a ton of bricks. The weight didn't get any lighter for the 8 days that Kurt was away, that feeling that Kurt was leaving him behind to go back to a place he'd never had any plans of returning to. After that he used his planning time differently.

The first year he didn't have much of a plan, so he used his empty evenings and weekend to sit around in his underwear and watch old DVDs and clean out their paper files. He tracked down both of their birth certificates and smiled when he put them in the same folder, and he filed their lease agreement right behind it. By the end it was just a small fire-safe box in the back of his side of the closet, but it was two lifetimes of achievement and immunization records, and that was something to behold and consider. The second year he'd planned ahead and, between projects and indulgences of his own, had taken on the electronic files, and dumped every scrap of song Kurt had ever written onto a giant portable hard drive. He scanned in piles of papers, trying to catalog as neatly as he could, and he read through volumes of old emails between them. The photos were the best part – over three nights he'd gone through two bottles of wine and years of memories, filing by year and pulling the very best to a thumb drive to print and have framed. When Kurt came home he stood in their bedroom and looked at the collage Blaine had hung on the bedroom wall for a good fifteen minutes, tracing his finger over their faces and smiling, and it had been hell to drag Kurt out of the apartment to get him on stage that night. Later that night Kurt had said that next year he wouldn't be coming home before his last date in New York but would go straight to the club instead, because coming home was too sweet to have it tainted by having to go straight back to work. Two weeks later, lying in bed sweaty and happy, Kurt had rolled back into him and quietly told him the truth, as he saw it – that most of the songs he sings are about the relief of pain, and once he's home there's no more need for them. "There's a place for melancholy. This isn't one of them." 

Blaine had buried his hand in Kurt's hair and said, "No." They'd been quiet for a minute until Blaine had said, "But 'A Place for Melancholy' would be a good name for a song."

\---

12 days in Blaine sits in the middle of their bathroom floor, looking at the bathtub and thinking about trying one more time to smooth the caulking around the tub, and he's humming "A Place for Melancholy" under his breath. It wasn't the first song he'd midwifed – "Chanel No. 22" had been Kurt's first song, inspired by a stop at the fragrance counter at Bergdorf's in an attempt to find a Christmas gift for Carole, and days later he'd sat in their living room and listened to Kurt throw his heart out for public consumption.

It's the fourth tour, the longest yet.

He's getting better at this, though. He's been out with friends, he's been sprawling in the bed and occasionally sleeping on the couch when he feels like it. He's been watching the action movies that bore Kurt and eating cold takeout out of the fridge without pulling down a plate. He spent all evening in his favorite chair at a bookstore, watching people come in and out and making up their stories. He's ahead at work and he's enjoying his alone time, he really is. But four weeks is a long time, even with all of that, and the bathroom is going to meet all of Kurt's specifications and thrill them both, but right now it's just kind of a mess.

The phone rings, and he grabs it from the narrow ledge of counterspace before it can vibrate itself into the sink. He smiles and says, "Hey, baby. Good show?"

\---

That night he dresses carefully. Tonight, for the sake of old times, he ties a bow around his neck, and smiles into the mirror while he imagines the look on Kurt's face when he'll untie it. Tonight will be a mix of seduction and reuniting, and as much as he wants Kurt's body back in their bed, he can't wait to see him play. Next year he _is_ going, he _has_ to, and they'll figure out the details. Kurt says little about what the kids are like, not since that first year, but Finn told him at Christmas that it's still the same – he's their spangled Pied Piper, the promise they're all hoping to follow. He knows how they feel – Kurt was that for him, too, once. He knows everything that it gives to Kurt, just as much as he knows how much it costs, and he wants to see it while it's still a little new. They haven't talked about it yet – Blaine figure he'll give it until Thanksgiving before he brings it up. 

\---

_And one day I'll look at him and find_  
How you taught me to love things beautiful, refined  
How to trust what seems too good to be true  
But now I clutch your coat, Chanel No 22  
And I thrill to be reminded of you 

Blaine watches and listens to Kurt let himself be vulnerable, and his heart melts with affection and pride. The lights on Kurt's face are bright, and the piano is soft and his voice is too, and Blaine leans against the bar, just another fan for a few more minutes, and he wants to know what the room is like but he can't really take his eyes off of Kurt so he can look around and take it all in. Kurt plays by mood and they've been quiet and contemplative for a while, so he's pretty sure that after this Finn will come back out. They'll finish angry and big with "Castrato", but they'll finish _on time_ and then play just a few more. Blaine will pull out his ID and slip backstage. Kurt will be tired and sheened with sweat, but he'll be juiced from the applause, and he'll laugh. He did last year, anyway, laughed with pleasure and relief and then reached out until he could throw his arms around Blaine's neck and pull him close.

\---

Blaine helps them pack up and get everything to the storage locker, and Finn heads to Rachel's for the night. Blaine shows Kurt the new kitchen fixture and Kurt stands behind him and presses kisses to the side of his neck, slow and lingering and so, so sweet. He takes Kurt's hand and leads him to the bathroom, and Kurt is as pleased with the paint color as he'd thought he would be, and then he takes his clothes off and kisses him all the way into the shower. Kurt presses him up against the new tile and kneels, and hums around a mouthful, and Blaine holds his head in his hands and stares down at him. 

He'll _still_ follow him anywhere.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine flies into Indianapolis, giddy with the prospect of the two weeks ahead of him, and grabs a car from the Hertz counter and sets out for Muncie. It's only a 2 hour drive on easy roads, so simple to do, but it makes him think about how much of this view Kurt and Finn and Q must have seen over the last 3 weeks. It makes him smile, and it makes him hurry. 

By the time he makes it to the ballroom in the student center at Ball State the room is already filling quickly, and Blaine stands at the door and looks around the room. There's a table hung with a familiar rainbow flag at the back where people are passing things back and forth, and there's a tiny merch table where Q is already doing brisk business. He feels a little awkward; this is new, coming into one of Kurt's spaces like this, and he's not quite sure how it's going to go, what he's going to _do_. The shows in New York are so frequent that they have a routine, but he knows that these shows usually include a long meet and greet session afterwards, and he doesn't want to feel like a third wheel. 

He spots Burt and Carole, sitting to one side in the front row, and Carole waves to him and points to a seat on the other side of Burt. He presses through a crowd with an apologetic smile and takes the seat they've saved for him, smiling at both of them and hugging Carole hello.

"You made it," Burt said, and smiled at him.

"Wouldn't miss it. It's not a bad drive," and they chatter about traffic and things of no consequence until Blaine makes a conversational left turn and says, "So, have you seen them?"

Burt smiles, clearly amused, and says, "Yeah, they're through that door. You should go say hi, let them know you showed up."

He hesitates, because they haven't talked about this part of it, and he knows how Kurt struggles to keep his game face on. But he's come so far, and he's been waiting for what feels like _forever_ , so he's just standing to go say hi when the door opens and Finn and Kurt walk out. Kurt's wearing blue and silver and grey, a combination that makes him seem icy and removed, but his smile is hesitant and warm and Blaine melts, just a little.

Kids jump up around them and start clapping and cheering, and Kurt waves and settles himself at the piano. And then, just for a long moment, he looks over to find his parents in the crowd and their eyes lock. Kurt's smile is delighted and private and oh, god, Blaine wants to kiss him again. He feels like one of these teenagers, swooning where he stands, and Burt claps him on the shoulder and laughs. Kurt sees it and raises a brow, and when Blaine presses his hand against his heart Kurt grins wide. Finn starts the count, and then they're off.

\---

They're playing a long set, and it's just Kurt at a grand piano for the middle part. Halfway through that quiet section he plays "Far From the Middle in Middletown", which he introduces with some background about the song. Blaine remembers him fooling around with it after Blaine had mentioned the [Middletown studies](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Middletown_studies) one night while they were still in college; they'd laughed at the idea that the town so close to home could have been so iconized. It felt true, it still does, and he can hear from the mumble of voices around him that Muncie still feels like Middletown to them, too.

And then he just quietly plays piano for a minute, stalling out on the intro of "Wrap", looping the instrumental intro a few times before he leans forward and quietly says, "My partner is here tonight. He's never come on tour before, so you should feel very special." He waits for the catcalls and the cheers to die down and then he smiles, a little impish, and says, "Thank you. I think so too." He plays for another minute and then says, "This is the last show in the Midwest, and tomorrow we're heading west for my first set of dates out there. It's a little terrifying, I don't mind telling you. Thank you, thanks so much for always being here. This is a song about taking comfort from the things that give you pleasure." And then he grins and bends his head and launches into a passionate performance of "Wrap", a song so devilishly sensual that the room erupts immediately into cheers and hooting, because this is a college crowd and _of course_ it's a new favorite. All hail the internet.

Blaine watches the kids whoop and holler, and two boys next to them sing along with the chorus while they slide together, one standing behind the other and wrapping around his boyfriend and wow, that got a little intense a little fast.

_I like the way you drape around me_  
Slide against my naked skin  
Want to feel your touch surround me  
Until I can't tell where you begin  
The way you slip and move confounds me  
I want to see you wrap 

Burt shifts beside him, and he can't seem to figure out where to look – watching Kurt sing this is clearly making him feel uncomfortable, and the boys next to them aren't helping. He leans over just a little and says, "If it helps at all, he wrote this after I gave him a cashmere/silk blend scarf last Christmas."

Burt just looks at him and Blaine shrugs a little and holds out his hands because, really, that's the story he's sticking with. Burt shakes his head and grins and then leans over to tell Carole, and she giggles and gives him a look, and Blaine just goes back to watching Kurt sing this song, because _fuck_ he's missed him.

It's mostly true, anyway. He just left out the part where they'd fucked while Kurt wore just the scarf, the part where he'd wrapped his hands in it and slid it across Kurt's body, just because it made him arch and moan. And if he stands there, next to the man who is functionally his father-in-law and thinks about it on his own every time Kurt goes high and breathy on "naked skin", well. He's done worse things.

\---

By the time the full set comes to a close, Burt is rocking back on his heels a little and his face looks stunned – Blaine is pretty sure that "Castrato" had gotten to him, as well it probably should have. The room is loud now that it's all over and they don't need to listen anymore, so loud that Carole has clapped her hands over her ears, but she can't stop beaming. Kurt takes one last bow and then grabs the mic to say, "Okay, so that's it. I'm headed back to the Spectrum table to talk to them about what they've got going on for the fall, so feel free to come by and say hi. Thanks again for coming back to campus even while it's supposed to be summertime, and make sure you thank Brendon and Chrissie for making it happen." He waves to the two undergrads who are standing beside the stage, looking starry-eyed and excited, and he lets himself be pulled into hugs as he jumps off the stage, his body tight with fatigue and unease with so much contact, but smiling through it all.

Blaine loves him so much right then, is as starstruck as all the rest, but there's more to it. Yes, Kurt is something to behold when he's up there, but he's also _Blaine's_ \- nobody here will ever know Kurt quite the way he does, will know that inside he's just waiting for those kids to let go of him.

He sits down with Burt and Carole while the center of gravity of the room shifts back and away, following Kurt, and he watches over his shoulder as Kurt makes his way down the main aisle, leaning a head closer to talk to somebody, signing a t-shirt somebody else has made. It's slow progress, but Kurt looks okay, so he turns back to his inlaws.

They're quiet, and they both look a little shell-shocked still. "So that's where he's at now," Burt finally says.

"Yep. That's what he does."

"He's come a long way since the last time I saw him play."

Blaine grins. "Five years, and he's worked hard. That counts for something."

"We've worked _damn_ hard," Finn says, walking up with a pair of beers dangling from each hand. "Here. Best perk of the university shows – they remember the important things," he says, holding up both hands. Carole waits until everybody's taken their own before she grabs Finn around the middle and wraps him up tight.

"Oh my god, you were so _good_ up there – honey I was so _proud_!" she gushes from somewhere in Finn's chest. She pulls back to look at him, her beer in one hand and her other clinging to her son's arm. " _So_ proud. I knew all that noise from the drums had to be good for something!" and then she's hugging him again.

"Oh man," Finn mutters, looking around the room at where they've drawn some attention – some of the kids are laughing. "Mom, you're making me look like a tool."

"Oh, get over it," she laughs, pulling back and wiping at her eyes. "You were just playing backup to your brother singing about somebody cutting his... well. You know what you were doing. I don't think you have much for me to ruin."

Finn grins, and says, "Yeah, but that's a kickass solo. Did you like it?"

Finn sits backward across a chair and Carole and Burt sink back into their seats to start talking about it, and Blaine's attention drifts back to where it was before. Kurt's across the room and sitting in a chair, a plate of fruit balanced on his knee, and trying to listen to what a trio of girls are telling him. He's absorbed, his face going from serious to animated in just seconds, so that every time somebody wanders between him and Kurt it's like a snapshot going off, 100 different expressions in as many seconds. 

"Blaine. Hey, Blaine," and his attention snaps back to Finn, who has stood up again and is gesturing toward the stage. "Want to help me wrap cables?"

He doesn't, but he will, so between the two of them they manage to strike the stage in just a few minutes. When they climb down Carole has her purse in her hand, and Burt is wearing a hat again. "We were thinking we could take you out to dinner? We got a room here for the night, but it's getting later, so...."

Finn shoots Blaine a look, and he cocks his head in return – he's not really sure what Kurt has planned, but he knows what he's hoping for. "Let's find out," Finn says, and then he cups his hands around his mouth and yells, "Hey, Kurt!" loud enough to cut over the chatter of the room.

All heads swivel to Finn, and then to Kurt, who only holds one gentle hand out to the girls he's _still_ talking to and cocks an eyebrow.

"Mom & Dad wanna get going. Get over here so we can make a plan."

Kurt rolls his eyes and says something that makes the group assembled around him laugh, but he rises and puts his plate on the chair and walks over. About half of the eyes of the room follow him, so when Kurt gets close enough to rest his hand on his back Blaine can't help it – he moves closer than he needs to and kisses him. It's just a tiny thing, small and chaste, but it's enough to have the groups closest to them erupt into titters.

"Well hello, sailor," Kurt barely breathes out. "Hold that thought."

Carole's grinning at them and Burt is, too, that rueful smile he's worn a lot of in the last eight years, and Blaine leans against Kurt and grins back at them, too happy to care. Kurt passes on dinner, waving a hand at the room and tossing out, "I'm going to be here a while," but they make plans to meet for breakfast before Kurt, Blaine, Finn & Q all have to take flights to Portland. Finn promises to hurry back to help Q pack, and Blaine agrees to let Q know that food is on its way for him. He kisses Carole and hugs Burt, promising to see them in the morning, and then everybody is headed their separate ways again.

He stops by the merch table to make sure Q has everything he needs, and he opens another box of CDs while Q handles the money. It's a good bit to take in, and it's not just CDs that are going but also a book of lyrics and sheet music that a fan had produced and offered for sale, to help support Kurt's touring. Q holds up a hand to get him to stop talking while he counts change and then says, "No, man, I'm fine. But if you could get me a beer when you find one, that'd be awesome."

Blaine wanders off in search of beer, and ends up at the Spectrum table. There's a framed picture of Kurt with two people in the center of the table, and pamphlets and fliers everywhere. The obligatory giant bowl of condoms is sitting at the end of the table, and Blaine grins as he pockets one – there's never any harm in making sure. He's looking at the pictures on the table, grinning kids standing in circles with their friends, what looks like a regular drag show, and then one of the girls behind the table says, "Would you like to join? It's only $20 for affiliate memberships." And that's how Blaine becomes a member of Ball State's LGBTQA Student Alliance, with a $20 bill and a slip of paper changing hands, and it's the most expensive condom he's ever bought but it's probably worth it for the look on the girl's face when she looks at the name he's put on the form and says, "Oh. Your name is Blaine."

He'll thank Kurt for that later, for making his name titular so long ago, but for now he just says, "It is. Thanks for having this event – it's been great."

"Oh," she stammers. "It was our pleasure, really. Tell him... I mean, tell him thank you, will you? Because he's been so great, and we really want him to want to come back."

Blaine laughs and looks toward Kurt, once again holding court and waving a pineapple spear. "He's having a great time – he'll want to come back." He looks back at her and smiles. "Now. Tell me about what Spectrum does, and what my $20 just bought me."

She grins and launches into a spiel, and they're still chatting when he feels that hand on his back again.

"Swapping war stories?" he hears in a voice light and playful and always, always so melodic. 

He winks at Cherie – nice girl, so _earnest_ \- and says, "He's just jealous. There was talk of a gay-lesbian student alliance when we were in high school, but it never got off the ground, and then we were too busy in college." He glances to the side and meets bright eyes. "Kurt, this is Cherie. She was just telling me what I get as a member of Spectrum."

"You joined?" 

"Of course I did! Student alliances are very important."

He turns his head to face Kurt, and he's definitely amused – amused, intrigued, _happy_ , damn he looks so happy right now. 

"Of course they are," Kurt says, his voice silken. "So can I join, too?" 

"Oh," and Cherie is clearly floored. "I mean, you can? But you don't have to? He's going to be getting the newsletter anyway – you can just... I don't know, you can share?" 

Kurt grins at her and says, "You say that like he's a good sharer. He's very possessive of his things," and Blaine knows that that's about the kiss. That's okay – he's not wrong. Right now he wants to watch Kurt finish working this room and then he wants to take him upstairs to their hotel room, and remind him all over again why joining them for the last part of tour was a very, very good idea. 

"Oh," Cherie says again, blushing. "Well then. I wouldn't want to come between you," and she hands over another form. 

And Blaine just thinks, _not a chance_.


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt's been wound up all day – he was quiet over breakfast and he clung just a little too long to his dad when they'd said their goodbyes. Blaine leaned against him once they were finally settled into their seats in coach, but Kurt had smiled at him stayed quiet. It wasn't until they were sitting in the Denver airport with a few minutes to spare, while Q & Finn were running around to fill their bags with more snacks and track down lunch, that Blaine finally said it.

"You're nervous."

Kurt turns to look at him, shifting against the plastic chair, and his eyes are solemn. 

"I am."

Blaine takes his hand again, this time securing it between two of his own. 

"It's just one more show."

He makes an attempt at a smile, and Blaine squeezes his hand when the smile doesn't quite make it to his eyes.

"I know. But." He breathes out. "New people, new place. I've never even _been_ to Portland."

"You'd never been to Muncie before, either."

Kurt's grin is quick, savage. "Yes I had. Never actually _in Muncie_ , but I've been in Columbus and Akron and Indianapolis and Springfield and Grand Rapids. That's the whole point of Muncie."

Blaine nods his head, acknowledging the point. "Fair enough. Tell me why we're going to Portland again?"

Kurt sighs, turning his body back toward the front and stretching his legs out, but he doesn't pull his hand away, and Blaine holds on. "We are going to Portland because I got an email from a 14-year-old girl and her mother. The mother runs... I don't know, _something_ , at a UU church, and last year there was escalating tension in one of the high schools with their gay students. The church has spent all summer trying to make sure that it won't happen again, and this concert will be the capstone to their 'Week of Love' program for high school youth. The contract is for a two-hour slot in some place called Eliot Chapel, followed by a reception in Fuller Hall." His voice is dry as he recites the facts, and Blaine can see why; it's the perfect _kind_ of performance for Kurt, motivated and right up his alley. But it also promises to be emotional, and Kurt will be vulnerable, and the people are entirely new. And my god, it's in a _church_. So that's... new.

"It sounds great," Blaine offers with a smile. "How many people?"

Kurt glances at him out of the corner of his eye and says, "The capacity is 250. The event sold out last month," and Blaine breathes out in a rush. _Really_ different, then – they night before there had been maybe 100 people in the room, and that was in the Midwest, where he's been stomping around for a long time now.

" _Kurt_ ," he says. "That's... damn."

Kurt turns back to look at him. "Yes. Exactly. So yes, I'm nervous."

It's not what he'd been expecting at _all_. Kurt's work is known at all only in certain circles, and although he's been selling enough music online, and bringing in a surprisingly nice sum every summer, Kurt's always said that he never expects a real contract. He's been doing it himself for a very long time, because that's what he's used to. It's always been a source of some mystery for Blaine, whether Kurt is a control freak because that's just who he _is_ , or if he'd just felt so lonely for so long that he learned that if he wanted things the way to go his way, he was going to have to be the one to make it happen. 

So when they'd started talking back in March about this part of the summer, when places like Portland and Los Angeles started taking shape as destinations rather than just cities, Blaine had thought they'd be something like the Midwest shows – small, intimate, just some kids hanging out with their friends and whoever else the community could provide. Muncie probably should have given him a clue – 100 people is a _lot_ for a Midwestern university in the middle of the summer, but Kurt is something of a hometown boy, a known commodity among queer kids and music geeks in that part of the country, and he'd thought it was more about that. 

He's been quiet for a while, and Kurt is watching him take it all in, so he just says, "So it's happening."

Kurt turns away again and shrugs, like he doesn't care, (lie, lie, _such_ a lie) and says, "Maybe." After a few seconds pause he says, his voice low, "I've been getting emails for a while now. A couple of years, maybe? There's interest out that way." 

Blaine doesn't know what he means, exactly – whether it's more people who want him to come out and play shows out West, or whether he means the OTHER kinds of emails that could come from that coast. He wants to be surprised that Kurt hasn't really talked about it, but they've been together too long for that to really be true – Kurt has always kept everything that mattered locked up tight and then transformed it. It's what the songs are about, it's why they exist, because Kurt _wants_ more deeply than anybody Blaine has ever known. It's part of what has locked them together, the way that Kurt wants him, and that, at least, is something that Kurt hasn't bothered hiding for a very long time.

"Hey," he says, tugging a little on Kurt's hand. He waits it out, waits for Kurt to turn back to him. "I'm nervous now, too. So congratulations."

Kurt smirks at him and raises a brow. "Glad I could... help?" 

Blaine squeezes his hand and Kurt says, "Oh good grief, where _did_ Finn and Q get off to? It's an airport – there's food _everywhere_." The moment breaks, and Kurt pulls away and stands. Blaine leans back into the hard plastic chair, and sits amid the rubble. He rubs his hands together, and he smiles.

\---

They're met at the airport by Julianne Reed-Smith and her mom, Tara, who could be the poster child for the kind of crunchy granola type that Blaine has always assumed would live in Portland. There's not a bit of makeup on her face, she's wearing khaki shorts, hiking boots and a down vest, and there are sunglasses propped on her messy, curly head, but her smile is broad and she nods at the Coffee People cups they all have clutched in their hands.

"I see you took my advice," she says, her grin spreading into her voice, and Kurt responds with a smile so sweet that Blaine can't help but grin himself.

"You might be my new favorite person. Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel," and he extends his hand for a shake.

"Tara Reed-Smith, and this is Julianne," she says, nodding at her daughter. Julianne's hair is dark and wild, but her smile is a little bit shy, and Kurt turns to shake her hand as well. She's clearly a bit starstruck, and Kurt holds on to her hand a little bit longer than he has to, waiting for her to come back to herself a little bit. Her eyes are everywhere, and when she glances over Kurt's shoulder, too uncomfortable to hold eye contact, her eyes lock onto Finn and go wide, and Blaine looks down at his shoes and tries not to laugh. 

"I see you've found my entourage. Don't be afraid, they won't bite." Kurt moves away from Tara and turns, including the rest of them in the conversation. "My brother and drummer, Finn Hudson, and Q McMasters, who makes everything go. And this is my partner, Blaine Anderson."

Finn's attention is mostly on the obscenely large coffee milkshake he's been sucking through a straw, but he breaks away to wave and say hi, as does Q, and Blaine just gives them both a little wave. Tara winks at him a little mischievously, clearly aware that her daughter has an epic crush on Finn, and all of a sudden it just seems easy, friendly, and so when Tara says, "So I guess you probably checked a lot of stuff?", Kurt just looks at Q and laughs.

\---

They caravan downtown, Kurt and Blaine in the backseat of the Tara's Subaru Outback and Finn & Q following in the van behind. The airport had taken forever – by the time Q had returned with the van they'd all finished their coffee and were standing by the curb with all of their gear, and Julianne had helped Blaine, Finn & Q load the van while Tara and Kurt had talked about the evening's events. At one point Blaine had moved out of Julianne's way while she struggled with a case and turned to look at them chatting and had been a little alarmed to see Kurt looking drawn, serious, with Tara's hand on his arm. When Tara and Julianne had gone to fetch Tara's car, he'd gone to Kurt and run one hand up and down Kurt's back a few times, and Kurt had just leaned into the touch for a moment before he turned to Finn and said, "They've moved us to a bigger venue."

The details Kurt had were scant, only that they would be playing in some place called the Main Street Sanctuary, which seats 700 rather than their promised 250. The reception would still follow in the same space, which Blaine found a little bit of a relief – so many _people_ – but most of the new venue has already been sold out, too, and Blaine feels a spike of ice start to settle in somewhere between his heart and his belly.

The car ride is comfortable, at least, and he can look out the window at the buildings and bridges and let his knee rest gently against Kurt's.

When they get to the block that the First Unitarian Church of Portland takes up Blaine stretches and peers up at the tall steeple after he gets out of the car, and once they've all hauled in all of their stuff, Q and Tara take off to find better parking while Kurt stands on the stage and stares out at the seats. Finn is still putting his kit together, and Kurt hasn't even touched the piano, just standing there right in the middle and looking, letting his eyes take in the lighting setup and the size of the space. 

Blaine settles into the front pew, right in the middle, and waits for Kurt's eyes to find him. When they do they're serious, assessing and professional, for just a moment before Kurt's mouth ticks into a soft smile, and he says, "Stay right there."

"I wouldn't miss it," he calls back, and he sprawls on the pew and spreads his arms wide. Kurt raises a brow and moves to the piano.

Kurt's still tinkering when Tara and Julianne come back in

"He doing okay?"

Blaine shrugs and says, "He's always okay," which isn't quite true, but for Tara's purposes is true enough.

"I thought he was going to pass out when I told him about the venue change," she jokes.

He turns toward her, just a little, and says, "He's never played a room this big before. It just threw him a little, I think."

She nods and says, "I figured. He… people are excited to hear him. We have people coming for miles to be here – the rest of the events have been big, too, but this is his West Coast debut, and people know who he is. Julianne tells me he's very big on the internet."

And that's the thing, right there. Kurt has always wanted to be a star – his bucket list from high school had made mention of it so many times, his need for validation, for approval. And he _knows_ Kurt wants this, craves recognition and accolades like they're essential for his continued well-being – he'd never outgrown it, not in the same way Blaine mostly has. But he doesn't think Kurt quite saw it coming like this, like a bomb thrown into the middle of everything he has planned, of their careful and ordered life, like all he had to do was get on a plane and fly into the middle of his dreams coming true.

"We didn't know that," is all he says, even though that's not quite true. "Well, we didn't know all of it."

Tara puts a gentle hand on his knee and says, "Well, now you do. So get ready." 

\---

Tara and Julianne sit with him through the afternoon while Finn, Kurt and Q move through the rest of set-up and soundcheck. At one point Tara elbows him and cocks her head toward her daughter, her eyebrows up. He leans a little forward and peeks around her, and Julianne's eyes are locked on Finn where he is drinking from a bottle of water and leaning over the piano, talking to Kurt.

He grins and settles back beside her, and says, under his voice, "How old is she, again?"

"Fourteen, and every inch of it," she whispers back. " _So_ young."

Blaine just turns his head to face her and says, "I wasn't much older than that when I met Kurt," and watches her face change, her eyes go wide. He laughs a little and says, "Sorry – a little scary?"

Tara looks up at the stage, at where Kurt and Finn appear to be arguing about something, because Kurt's face looks _fierce_ , and says, "I can't imagine it."

"Which one – her meeting the love of her life now, or Kurt being 17?"

She turns to him and says, "The first one. Everyone who has ever heard any of Kurt's songs can easily imagine him being 17," and it takes Blaine's breath away, because it's so _true_.

"So you listen, then?" He's never been quite sure who Kurt's main audience could be, because Tara is right – Kurt's music plays like the stricken kid he'd once been, like the young man he passed through, and is just beginning to take on the voice of who he is now. 

Sometimes listening to Kurt play is like passing through the world's oddest tape delay, especially songs like "Paper Sleeve", where the images that Kurt pulls from are such an important part of his own history. Some of Kurt's songs, like "Favored Son", _are_ him – the first time Kurt had played it for him he'd sat in their living room and just cried like the broken teenager Kurt was writing about, because Kurt had been writing about Blaine as a kid, _for_ him, and he has never heard Kurt play it live. He's reasonably sure that's on purpose.

She shoots him a funny look and says, "Of course I listen. I wouldn't invite anybody to an event of mine unless I had faith in his work." Just for a moment he can see a thread of steel running through her, and he grins. He _likes_ her, all easy friendliness but with a definite mind of her own. 

"Sorry, sorry."

She shakes her head and says, "What, you thought it was just kids? You're both adults – you know just as well as I do that part of us never grows up."

He stretches his legs out and crosses them at the ankle and looks at Kurt. "No, that's certainly true."

"He's very talented, you know," and he turns to look at her and says, his voice a little dry, "I'm well aware," and she laughs.

"I'm sure you are." She turns back to the stage, and says, without looking at him, "What do you do, Blaine?"

He smiles and says, "I'm an architect."

She starts and looks back at him. "Seriously?"

He just laughs and says, "Why do people always say that? Yes, I am."

She grins apologetically and says, "I'm sorry. You just… I don't know, it's a strange pairing. An architect and a performer. Okay."

He smiles ruefully and says, "When we met, I was the _consummate_ performer. Singing, dancing – all of it. It was definitely my thing. It's how we met, actually."

She keeps grinning and says, "So what happened?"

He can't even explain it, but he tries. "I just… didn't need it anymore? It started being less interesting and it was _so_ time-consuming. And then it just… it's a really big world, you know? Lots to discover, and this is where I am now."

Her smile is sympathetic when she says, "Trust me, I'm a UU. I _know_."

\---

The afternoon passes quickly, and Kurt keeps noodling on the piano and the Minister of Social Justice comes in and introduces herself and asks them to call her Meredith. He can tell Kurt is a little taken aback, and when she turns to talk details with Tara he sees Kurt mouthing "social justice" to himself with a little smile so he climbs the stairs to the stage and sets a hand on his back.

"Hungry?"

"I could eat something, yeah. I probably should – I feel like I'm burning up _something_ , anyway."

Blaine edges his butt onto the bench right next to Kurt and says, "Don't be nervous. You're going to be amazing, and it's just one more performance."

Kurt shrugs with one shoulder and keeps playing, his right hand picking out something new, and Blaine wonders if Kurt is writing or just playing. 

He leans against him for a minute, the warmth of Kurt seeping through his shirt. He turns to look out at the room, at where Julianne is fiddling with her phone while Tara and Meredith are talking quietly, and he stands. "I'll go find some food, and it'll be time to change soon. But, hey."

Kurt's right hand keeps going but he looks up over his shoulder, one brow up.

"Have you guys figured out the set list yet?"

Kurt stops playing and turns to him, his shoulders falling. "Not completely. I cannot _imagine_ playing 'Wrap' in somebody's church, but Finn says they invited us here and we should go for it. I don’t know. I'm trying to avoid thinking about it for a few minutes."

He puts his hand on Kurt's shoulder, just to touch him, and says, "I'll talk to Tara, and let you know when I come back with the food. But... are you playing 'Favored Son'?"

Kurt looks up at him, his eyes soft, and says, "No. I struck that from the list for this part of the tour."

And it's just like he thought, and he smiles and says, "It's one of my favorites, you know. I'd like to hear it."

Kurt watches him for a second, his eyes soft and affectionate, and then he brings up a hand to rest on top of Blaine's. He squeezes, holding Blaine's hand and squeezing his own shoulder in return and says, "I think I can make that happen, if you bring me some really good cheese."

Blaine grins, and Kurt warns, "Nothing yellow," his voice silly and stern.

Blaine turns his hand to catch Kurt's, to squeeze it one more time, before he moves away and says, "I'm on it."

\---

Blaine wakes the next morning to light in the room and the gentle hum of the shower, and he stretches into the day and checks the clock. It's after 8 am, which doesn't seem late, but his body is still on east coast time and he can feel the lethargy of a morning lie-in winding its way through his body, making him want to bury his head in the pillow and drift back to sleep. But Kurt is up, and they have a full day of travel ahead, and besides that he needs the bathroom. In a minute.

Last night Kurt had played a beautiful show, and he'd stayed in the front row for it, and watched him. However nervous he was, he played beautifully – he was a little self-deprecating, showing or feigning surprise at the size of the crowd, but the _music_ was high energy and seductive, and he'd sat there in that pew and felt like Kurt had never been in better voice. The reception had been manic, filled with people clamoring for Kurt's attention and time, and any fluidity he had seen in Kurt's body while he had been playing wore away until he was nothing but sharp angles and rapid movement. 

They had made their way back to the hotel late, agreeing to meet Tara and Meredith at the church again the next morning to pack up their gear. Kurt had been quiet, drained and lagging behind in the elevator, and when Blaine had taken him to bed he'd pushed close against Blaine's side and just _hidden_ there, running his hand over Blaine's chest with his eyes half open. Blaine had held him, and then turned and gathered him in his arms, holding tight, and Kurt had clung until he fell asleep. 

It had been disconcerting, a little bit, but it's not the first night Blaine has lain beside Kurt while he kept processing what had happened, and it's always better in the morning. He crawls out of bed, pads into the bathroom, and when he's washing his hands Kurt peels back the shower curtain and smiles, radiant and playful, and says, "Care to join me?"

He does. Rather a lot. 

\---

At the church Tara hugs all of them, lingering to squeeze Blaine one more time and whisper, "It was such a pleasure. Let us know if you're ever back this way," and he hopes they will be. Finn wraps Julianne up in a hug and when she pulls away her eyes are wide and her grin looks like it's been permanently screwed to her face, and Blaine raises his eyebrows at Tara and she shakes her head. She puts her hand on Kurt's arm after they've said goodbye and says, "It was a pleasure, Kurt. Take good care of yourself," and his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

After they've packed they stop for lunch, and Finn & Q already have their minds on the road and are planning out stops, and Kurt is suddenly picking at a salad so Blaine steps in to coordinate their rendezvous in Oakland. Finn gives him a look, and Blaine shakes his head, and when Finn claps his shoulder as they stand to go he hopes it's in solidarity, not warning. Blaine pays for lunch, he secures their late check-out, he makes sure there's nothing else he can do for Kurt when Kurt settles in for a nap while he settles down with his laptop and goes through his work emails. 

Kurt is grumpy when he wakes up, stiff in his body and his demeanor, and at one point Blaine is going over the plan for Oakland with him while he fixes his hair in the bathroom, and Kurt snaps out, "I know, Blaine. I _have_ been on tour before, you realize."

"Hey," he says, but he lets it go, lets it roll over him, and then he groans about the volume of his work email and the stupidity of his most recent client and Kurt says nothing, just snaps his toiletry bag closed and moves jerkily to put it away, his mouth set in a line. Blaine closes his laptop and says, "I get it. I _think_ I get it, anyway, because you won't _talk_ to me, but I'm not letting you do this. Not this week."

He watches Kurt, watches him zip his bag closed, but Kurt never looks up, his focus far away.

He crosses the room and lays one wide hand on Kurt's back and doesn't say anything, and then he goes to pack his own stuff in the bathroom.

\---

"I lied before. The porter did have a good ass."

Blaine smiles down at his book and then looks up at Kurt, who is sprawled across the berth in their sleeper car and staring out the window. When they'd planned this little break on the Coast Starlight this wasn't the kind of trip he'd had in mind, all this tension and anxiety, but that image – Kurt with an open collar and a dreamy look on his face – comes a lot closer to his fantasy.

Blaine smiles and gives him a secret in return, because this is a game they've been playing for a long time. "I have peanut M&Ms in my bag. I wasn't going to share, because you were being bitchy, but I probably will anyway."

Kurt smiles at him, soft and gentle. "I want to stay on this train forever. I wish it could loop all the way around the world and we never had to come out of this room. We could live on your peanut M&Ms."

"Protein," Blaine says, and Kurt gives him a playfully waggled eyebrow in response and holds out his hand. Blaine drops his book on the seat and goes to him, laughing against Kurt's mouth and whispering, "Scurvy," and Kurt just clenches his hands in Blaine's sweater and tugs him onto the bed.

They kiss for long minutes, and as soon as the kiss breaks, Blaine whispers, "Sometimes I want to quit my job."

"I thought so. I'm not sure it counts as a secret, since I already knew."

"Still. It's the first time I've said it, so it should count. I love what I do, but I think I can only stay with the firm for so much longer." Long minutes pass, until Blaine nudges him and whispers, "Your turn."

"I'm terrified about getting bigger, because all of my material is so personal." Kurt's quiet for a minute now that it's out there, and then he whispers, "Sometimes I want to quit my job, too."

Blaine pulls back to look him square in the face. "Do you think you will?"

Kurt's face is serious, but there's a smile lingering around the corners of his mouth when he shakes his head and says, "No."

"Okay." And then, "I love watching you with your fans, but only when I can remember that you come home when it's over. You give so much, and I just… want you to have something that's just for you. I'm terrified of you getting bigger, too."

Kurt kisses him long and deep, pressing him back onto the bed so he can lie half on top of him. It's a gift, this kiss, for saying what has always been there, for putting it into words, and Blaine grabs hold of it with both hands. And then he gives him a gift in return, a secret told out of order, and as soon as the kiss breaks he says against Kurt's mouth, "I really want to marry you."

He can feel Kurt smiling against his mouth. "That's my biggest secret, too," Kurt breathes back at him, and kisses him again. 

Kurt's hands are long, fine-boned, beautiful and strong from years of the piano, and when they slide into Blaine's shirt it's the best kind of balm, like he can rub comfort into his skin. Kurt makes a noise low in his throat and whispers against his ear, "I'm sorry I was being so horrible. I'm not sure I know how to do this."

"Let me help you," he gasps when Kurt's mouth goes to his throat, sucking gentle and slow while his hands slide down the sides of his body and pull the shirt from his shorts. "I love you, Kurt. Let me help."

Kurt slides down his body and punctuates the rest of his apology with long, slow kisses across Kurt's belly. "You do help. You _always_ do. I'm sorry I make it so hard."

Blaine grins at the ceiling of their sleeper car and says nothing, lets Kurt's innuendo hang in the air until Kurt pinches his side and says, "If you can keep it together, I'm going to finish this very sincere apology in the time-honored way."

"I'm not stopping you," he says with a tiny hitch when Kurt's hand strokes firm over his dick, already going hard in his shorts, and starts to work at his fly.

"You said it yourself – nutrition is important," and Blaine huffs out the hint of a laugh and lets his head fall back against the pillow when he buries his hands in Kurt's hair. 

Kurt's tongue is soft and wet and so warm, and the noise of lazy contentment he makes as he sucks Blaine in still half-soft is beautiful and so damn hot. Blaine balls a pillow under his head so he can look down at him, at the way the dim light plays across Kurt's features, at how his cheeks hollow when he sucks hard.

Kurt's eyes are gentle and sweet, and his tongue is wicked and his lips are so tight. Blaine slides his hand through Kurt's hair over and over, letting it slip through his fingers and making a mess of what Kurt keeps so tightly put together, and the train shakes around them and Blaine falls, he keeps falling, until everything in the world is right and right there.

\---

Hours before they pull into Oakland Kurt is awake, lazily watching the sun creep across the sky out the window and listening to Blaine breathe a broken rhythm over the sharp thump-clack of the train. He's long since passed the point when rhythm could be soothing white noise; it's in him now, and now it's not his hips or shoulders that need to shake, it's his _fingers_ that ache to chase it down, and instead of wrapping a melody around it in his mind he lets his hands go back to the only place they can be still. He slides his fingers into Blaine's hair. 

They'd whispered until they'd fallen asleep and it had been the kind of relief he's needed. Kurt told him about the invitation from the Vancouver Folk Festival, about the agent who wants to meet him in LA, about everything that could happen and everything that could happen after that. This morning he lies in the sleeper car, warm and wide awake with anticipation buzzing through him, and none of it scares him. None of it.

\---

Finn & Q are there to meet them, and it takes less time than they'd anticipated to make their way to their home for the evening, the SF LGBT Community Center. Tonight's show is one he's been looking forward to, because he's playing with and for kids and he expects it to feel like home. He's seen pictures of the [Rainbow Room](http://www.sfcenter.org/images/room_rentals/2nd_floor/rainbow_room.jpg), but he'd never anticipated it could feel quite like it does – institutional but celebratory, ruthlessly functional but so _bright_. He loses his host for the night early, but he sits and eats couscous prepared by these kids in these kitchens, his thigh pressed against Blaine's under the long table. By the end of dinner he sits back in his chair and crosses his ankle over Blaine's and he just listens – to their laughter, their gentle teasing, their jokes and their stories. He imagines what it would have been like growing up here, so different from Lima, and then he remembers everything Ohio gave him, is _still_ giving him.

He listens to their jokes and he goes through the setlist in his head, and for one exceptionally clear moment it seems like Lima, Ohio is the best place he could have ever lived.

\---

"I wrote this because I was angry. I had a terrible high school experience, right up until the moment I didn't. I hope none of you are in the middle of one of your own." He plays on, and looks at their faces, at the bright eyes in the audience, and he feels a little sorry to bring this here. "Maybe that doesn't matter, though. Maybe everybody feels this way sometimes."

"Czolgosz" was written in one late, anguished night after another school shooting, this time close to home in New Jersey, and he's still a little sorry he wrote it. Every year there's a kid who meets him after a show and reinterprets it for him like Kurt wasn't the one who wrote the damn thing, usually another Ohioan who was bred on the mythology and assassination of William McKinley just like he was. It's the most up-tempo scream of pain he could ever imagine, the joy of catharsis for misery, and sometimes he hates how familiar it can all feel. 

"Thanks," he says when it's over and they politely applaud. What else is there to say?

He never stops playing, launching right into something completely different, because tonight he feels a little bit wild with it, juiced on the power of this audience and the joy of not going home alone. "I never play this when he's in the room. After today I might not again. We'll see," and he changes key and launches into a relaunch of a song he knows Blaine hasn't heard him play in _years_ , and he hopes he'll like the changes he's made.

_Fall so slow and make me wait_  
Arms spread wide to catch you close  
Neither sure who'll keep us safe 

_600 miles away you slept_  
In a room that kept me loved so well  
With every promise that we kept 

Blaine is grinning back at him, his brows up, and he loops back through the peppy instrumental just before the chorus, faking the kids out and then grinning at them. "Just testing. Wanted to make sure you were with me. Everybody keeping up?" and they laugh and holler. "Excellent. Okay, then, just a few more beats, and we'll give it to him." He bends over the keyboard and he knows his smile has gone toothless when he hears them screaming along with him to this barnstormer of a chorus, like a musical grinding through its top gears.

_Blazer and tie and pristine white shirt_  
Cardigans all through the fall  
Bow tie, suspender, cropped tailored pant  
And the best is the nothing at all 

Blaine is actually _blushing_ , and when he brings his hand to cover his face Kurt winks at the kids behind him who are laughing. His voice is high and airy when he says, "Oh, I think we embarrassed him." Blaine nods, his face still covered, just emphatically enough for it to be funny, and so Kurt says, "Naturally, then, we should do it again."

Kurt rushes through the next verse, eager to get back to the chorus, and the kids are right there with him, gently mocking Blaine's wardrobe and getting positively giddy when it's time to metaphorically strip him down. 

When it's over, Kurt starts in immediately to "Wrap", because they might as well make a night of it. He watches couples doing their own version of the song together, watches a small teenaged boy singing brightly to a girl beside him who sings it right back to him, silly looks on both of their faces, and he stifles a grin at this particular version of that age-old story – a silly, waiting, longing boy and his dependable girl who will always love him, just a little bit. 

After the show the kids are _wired_ , and there's a big tub of ice cream to be shared around, and some of the kids take their own turn at the piano and the drums. Kurt stays close to the stage to talk and to listen, because a good performer has to be a good listener, and he passes on the ice cream. He finds his people, though – Blaine and Finn and Q have taken up a station near the ice cream table, and Finn is alternating between shoveling it in with his usual grace and talking with Blaine. Q has on his best don't-talk-to-me body language, but Blaine is gently smiling and nodding, so it can't be too bad.

And the kids, my _god_. They're all so _happy_. He can't wait to lie in bed tonight and share it with Blaine, reflect again on the difference a large and vibrant community can make. It's not like he didn't already know – he's been in New York a long time – but these kids are awkward and silly and it's clear that some of them don't like each other, but they all belong here in a way that is deeply familiar and that he longs for. Suddenly he can't _wait_ to see Mercedes.

\---

They've packed the van and are just saying their goodbyes when two boys step out of the building, hands held tight between them, and hurry up to them.

"Kurt," one of them calls out, the taller of them.

"Good evening, gentlemen. We're just about to head out. What can I do for you?"

"We just wanted to ask -" his boyfriend puts a hand on his back, and interrupts him.

"We wanted to talk to both of you, actually. You and Blaine, I mean."

He looks between them, because this is new, and then he turns and calls Blaine over, watches him detach from their host for the evening and make his way over.

The introductions are quick, perfunctory, because they already know who he and Blaine are and these boys are already so familiar, and and then tiny little Micah launches into it, like he's been waiting way too long to spit this out.

"I'm a sophomore, and he's a junior and all of our friends think we're too serious. So what we want to know is, how did you stay together?

Blaine looks over at Kurt, searches his eyes and smiles gently, and then he turns to them and says, "We didn't."

Their faces are stunned, and Kurt says, "Don't just say it like that!"

"But it's true!" Blaine's face is serious but his eyes are smiling.

Kurt rolls his eyes and mutters, "Your sense of storytelling, my _god_ " and turns to them to clarify. "We broke up twice. Once for just a few weeks, during my senior year of high school. And then again for eight months, a few years later."

The boys look stunned, like the wind has been knocked clean out of them.

"Oh," Caleb says. "But you...."

Kurt takes Blaine's arm and smiles and just says, "Oh yes." 

They stare at each other for long seconds, and Kurt watches the way they hold and grasp, how Caleb's other hand comes up to cover Micah's so he can hold him steady. 

"You love each other. It's... yeah. I know how that is," and he glances at Kurt and mirrors Caleb, putting his hand, broad and warm, over Kurt's where it rests on his arm. Kurt looks at the kids and they look like they're about to fall into a swoon. He knows how they feel, knows so well that he feels like he has to give them something.

"All I can tell you is what has worked for us. The best advice I can give you is to do what you have to do to make yourself happy," Kurt finally says.

Blaine's eyes are warm and soft when he says, "No, that's right. Even the people who love you the most are going to disappoint you. All you can ever do is what makes you happy, and hope that that keeps you together." Kurt squeezes his arm, because it's the most concise version he could ever imagine of everything that has changed and grown between them since they were kids.

Kurt looks back at Micah and Caleb, who are gently smiling at each other, and smiles brightly and says, "So. Did that help?"

\---

Later, after they've put Micah and Caleb back together and sent them on their way, after they've sent Finn and Q out for the evening (Finn was eager, so antsy to get to his room and change so they can go back out. Kurt's just trying not to think too much about what that means for the rest of Finn's evening, and god knows he's had enough practice with that), Kurt stands in their hotel room and stares in the mirror for a minute, and then turns to Blaine and says, "Let's go out. Let's go dancing."

Blaine lounges on the bed, propped up on his elbows, and chuckles at him. "Finn was just telling me how wiped out you are after these long meet-and-greet sessions, especially in the middle of a block of shows. I was supposed to bring you home and... well, I'm pretty sure he just told me to fuck you and put you to bed."

He rolls his eyes and tries not to imagine that conversation, and then says, "What does Finn know?"

"He's been touring with you since you started. Are you telling me he doesn't know what you need?"

Kurt pushes off the dresser and goes to the bed, grabbing his hands and pulling him up and forward, "He's never been on tour with _us_ before. Now. Let's go! I want to dance with you tonight."

Blaine laughs and staggers to a stand, "Hey, I liked Finn's plan!"

"Finn doesn't know what he's talking about. I feel so _good_ , and I want to go celebrate."

Blaine slides his hands up to cradle Kurt's face. He looks into his eyes for long seconds, those eyes that he's been looking at for a very long time. They're still so damn _pretty_ , ringed with long lashes and shining with amusement and affection, but right now they're also assessing him gently, taking inventory and taking care.

Blaine grins and says, "Okay. Let's go."

\---

Kurt sleeps for much of the drive down to LA, and Blaine watches him between his own fitful dozing. Q and Finn are sitting up front, bickering about directions and car food and the radio station, and Blaine would offer to drive but he's still anxious about disturbing their normal too much. The three of them know how to do this, they've developed a system, and he's loath to screw it up. The train trip between Portland and San Francisco had soothed a lot of the growing pains, but it also served the purpose of reminding him exactly where this could go wrong. So he sits in the back row of seats and watches Kurt and listens to Finn and Q and he thinks about what's been normal, and what will be.

Finn has been with Kurt since the beginning. When it first became clear that Kurt was developing more driving melodies that would benefit from a stronger rhythm line, he'd gone to the first drummer he ever had access to, and Finn and Kurt had been working together ever since. It's not the most obvious route he could have gone – god knows they have enough friends who are musicians in the city – but Blaine thinks it's the best thing Kurt could have done for himself. He and Finn have spent their 20s growing closer instead of farther apart, even though Finn still lives back in Ohio and Kurt is in the city, and every trip home has had purpose and joy and music and something to _do_ to keep it alive. Since that first summer when Finn had come out and spent three weeks sleeping on their floor and banging out rhythms on their kitchen table, the whole enterprise has tied them together and given them both purpose and direction, a familiar presence to lean on as they figure out how this is supposed to work.

He hadn't really gotten that at first, not really. It was only during the first tour that he'd really understood. They'd only been gone for days, but by the time Kurt was playing his welcome home show he could see what it had done for them. They were easier with each other than they'd ever been, and for weeks after Kurt had dropped little anecdotes about their time on the road; he still mocked Finn's eternal love for corn-nuts but he grinned when he did it, soft and fond. And then that Thanksgiving when they'd all been banging around Burt and Carole's house, he and Finn had started talking one late night in the kitchen when the lure of leftover pecan pie had drawn them both, and Finn had told him his version of what it was like out there on the road. At the end of his stories, when Blaine was itching to crawl back into bed and lie still on his side and just _stare_ at Kurt, Finn had scraped his fork across the plate to catch the last few crumbs and said, "Man, you should have seen them. Hell, you should have seen _him_. Like, a thousand years ago he was just this scared, lonely kid, and you and I know that that guy is still in there. You'd _never_ be able to tell, though. They think he's like a _god_ , and that's because they're all just like him. It's something else. If we go again next year, you should totally come."

He'd told Finn then that he wasn't sure that was a good idea, about the space they need, about his own career and the demands of proving himself to be reliable at work, and Finn had gotten it right away. "Yeah, I can see that. I totally do. I'm so lucky to be working for Burt." He stood up and stretched and put his plate in the sink, and then said. "I'll keep an eye on him for you, though. I've got his back."

Like Blaine had ever really doubted it.

It had been another year before Q had joined them, before the tour had gotten big enough to support another person, and the whole time Blaine's career had been growing and he'd been busy keeping the homefires burning. It had been hard – some days when Kurt was away he'd missed him so fiercely that he'd grown angry and resentful just to take a break from being sad – but both of them had been doing what made them happy, and it's hard to resent something that sweet, especially after the homecomings.

Blaine thinks about how much this whole thing has changed, how everything has evolved from the moment Kurt set up his own YouTube channel into _this_ , this thing that still isn't fully grown but that is bursting out of the seams of their carefully constructed life. He wonders where they'll be next year, and he daydreams about longer tours, about bigger rooms and bigger crowds and more brains to be filled up with Kurt's stripped-down sense of himself, about what it'll do to Kurt and where it'll take Finn. He wonders about where it'll take _him_ , if this is the last time he'll go on tour for a while or the beginning of a whole new set of adventures.

He doesn't know if Kurt and Finn and Q have talked about it, about what happens if they're touring for months at a time instead of just weeks, but he doubts it. Finn has always taken everything in stride, and Q is the most good-natured, responsible drifter imaginable – he just does what he feels like doing and what his friends need him to do, and it's hard to imagine somebody more even-tempered for support staff. 

And Kurt.... Kurt has always been ambitious but so damn independent, and he knows that Kurt has plans and ideas and dreams that he doesn't easily share, because once that happens they're impossible to stuff away in case they don't come true. That doesn't mean he won't, or that he can't; it just means that Kurt picks his moments, that sometimes he disappears into his head and forgets that Blaine can't read his mind, and that he can't plan for the rest of their life if he doesn't know where it's going. 

Sometimes Blaine has done it for him. It's been a fine line to walk and there is always the danger that he'll interpret wrong or overstep, but it's certainly true that Kurt knows how to correct him. Nobody runs Kurt Hummel's life for him, but Kurt has _always_ wanted a partner. He's always wanted _Blaine_.

Tonight they'll be in Los Angeles, and Mercedes will be there. Blaine is excited to see her, and so is Kurt. Tonight they'll be swept into her apartment and there'll be food and memories and a tiny slice of life imported and borrowed from back when it was easier, as ironic as that is. He'll pass out early on the bed while Kurt and Mercedes stay up way too late in the living room, catching up over bottles of wine. He hopes so, anyway.

Kurt is less excited to see the other person they'll definitely be meeting in LA. Last night, after they'd danced and drank and continued the celebration back in their room, they had lain together sweaty and sated and, while Kurt played with his hair, he told him in a quiet voice that tomorrow night's show had been organized by a record company executive. It had been a bombshell of an admission, and once it was out there they'd both been quiet for a minute, just taking it all in in a hotel room so far from home. 

Finally Kurt had broken the silence by whispering, "I'm so glad you're here for all of this. Thank you for coming."

He had lain there and listened to Kurt breathe, to the gentle rhythm of their life together and the comfort of the silence between them, and said, "Thank you," and then rolled a little closer and rested his head on Kurt's chest and wrapped his arm around him and said, "I love you."

He knows himself better now than he ever has. He knows everything that scares Kurt and at least half of what makes him excited, because Kurt keeps discovering new things for himself, new things that surprise him and delight him. It's not hard work to guess for him, to imagine what might make him happiest, and he never wants to substitute his own plans for Kurt's but as he sits there and watches Kurt frown into his sleep, he thinks that it's better this way. It's better to grasp each other's hand and step forward together.

Kurt can lounge boneless in the van and dream and so can he, and together they can pick their dreams out of the rubble of their crazy, busy minds and assemble them into something like a plan. Somehow it's easier to face the idea of major change while they're on the road, when it's just the four of them in a rented van, and there are no limits to where this tour can take them.

For now he watches Kurt sleep, and he thinks about when they're going to stop so that Finn can stretch his legs again. He thinks that next time they do, he'll offer to take a shift behind the wheel.


	5. Chapter 5

_One year later_

"Okay, so I think that's everything."

Blaine dusts his hands and leans over to brush off his jeans, and Kurt takes a spin and looks around at the stage. Everything is in place, and they're ready.

He sits on the piano bench and smirks up at Blaine. "Tonight, San Francisco. Tomorrow," he plays an ominous minor chord flourish, " _the world_."

Blaine leans over him and brushes a kiss against his hair, and his hands come to rest over Kurt's on the keys. A simple gold band shines from the ring finger of his left hand, and Kurt smiles at it as it nestles next to its partner. "Don't be melodramatic," Blaine says into his hair. "We've been planning for months. It's going to be perfect."

Kurt smiles, because he's pretty sure it will be.

\---

The last year has been insane, and he kind of can't believe it's touring season already. Sometime last October they'd both realized how much they were talking about the West Coast, about the comfort of having Mercedes close, about the ease and welcome they'd felt there. Finally one night over dinner, Blaine had just looked up at him in the middle of their pasta and said, "Do you want to move?" 

It had been a wrenching few weeks, filled with heartfelt discussion about Blaine's work and their home and their friends, and then one night Kurt had come from a singer-songwriter showcase shellshocked from sharing the bill with a man who had played a 22-minute song about every township in Bergen County, New Jersey. He'd taken one look at Blaine and sat down on the couch and said, one hand to his forehead, "I'm going nowhere here. I think that if I'm going to do this, we have to at least _try_."

After that it had moved frighteningly quickly. The next day Kurt had skipped over the emails from people in LA but returned the one from the indie producer in San Francisco who was trying to gain some traction there, and after months of sitting on that email hitting "send" had felt strangely final, like he was committing to something terrifying and exciting and, maybe, really worth doing. It wasn't until his reply came 2 hours later that Kurt realized just _how_ fast this was going to go. 

Blaine had started looking for work and done a few noncommittal phone interviews and then given notice and cashed out his meager retirement fund. They'd made a last round of holiday parties, and said their goodbyes to the city, both silly and serious. One Monday afternoon, just a few days before they left town, they'd gone for a walk in Central Park as part of their goodbye tour, and the walk was a little somber, a little serious – they'd grown so much here, and the Park had been a part of their weekend plans when money was scarce and they needed to be out, young, alive. It was a cold, grey afternoon and they'd been going over their plans for packing the truck one more time, and then Blaine had stopped, knelt on the sidewalk and pulled out a small box.

Kurt had looked at him, at his serious face, and realized that Blaine thought he might actually say no. "We have just enough time to do it before we go if we apply for a license today. Will you?"

Kurt had bent to take his other hand and tugged, muttering, "The sidewalks are filthy here, your _pants_ " before he pulled him into a kiss and whispered, "Yes, of course," against his mouth.

36 hours later they left the Brooklyn City Clerk's office and walked home to their apartment and, there amid the boxes and the bare walls, Blaine fucked Kurt for the last time in New York City, at least for now. Ever since then he's been trying to find a way to make that feeling into a song, to capture the hope and sorrow and overwhelming joy into something that isn't too personal. So far he hasn't struck on it, and he thinks he might have to wait until the memory doesn't make him want to immediately go hunt Blaine down and take him back to bed all over again. He already knows that it'll be called "Love, Brooklyn", though.

Two days after that they were standing in his parents' house and Carole was crying over the rings and his dad was smiling and Blaine just beamed, like all of his dreams had come true.

\---

Getting out of New York was one thing; getting into San Francisco had been quite another. The first few weeks had been a _nightmare_ , as Blaine had looked at their new apartment that they'd sunk so much of their savings into (an old friend from school had inspected it and sworn it was structurally sound and worth the money, and he hadn't been wrong, but there was a reason the place came cheap) and gone into a renovation frenzy. He did freelance AutoCAD work between meetings during the work hours, and then sanded and plastered and tiled and painted at night. Blaine had developed quite a skill set and his eye for design had surpassed Kurt's years ago, but without a clearly defined work schedule he was throwing himself at everything he could get at, and what he could get at was their apartment. None of it seemed to make him _happy_ , though, and Kurt didn't know how to help.

And Kurt had probably let it go for too long, but he had problems of his own. Q had stayed behind in New York, unsure if he could put together enough work and friends and opportunities for free beer on a different coast, and it was almost into March before Kurt felt confident he could put together another tour for the summer. They'd been working on a shoestring budget for years, but if he was going to have to pay somebody to come along for support they were going to have to tighten up even more. Things looked good out here - the numbers Liam had sent him for his West Coast college, alternative and internet radio play were startlingly good, he'd had no _idea_ \- but it didn't feel real yet, and he didn't feel good about taking on that much risk when he couldn't be _sure_ what their audiences and the numbers would look like. Liam had taken on the role of booking agent for the west coast side of things, because when he said the operation was lean he wasn't kidding, but Liam's been out here for a long time and seems to know everybody. Kurt was determined to still manage the midwestern side of booking, and it was still college kids and their friends putting dates together as best they could, but even there the venues were getting bigger, and he could feel change coming

It all came to a head over Easter weekend, when they were lying in bed late Sunday afternoon after a round of particularly aggressive sex, and Kurt had turned on his side and whispered, "I have a secret."

Blaine had looked at him then, his eyes wary and tired, and then Kurt said, "I'm afraid you hate it here. I think you regret following me here."

Blaine reached for him then, pulling him close, and he said, "I could _never_ regret you." He'd paused then, and after a moment, he said, "But no, I'm not really happy. I need something to do. I'm not any good at being unemployed. And _don't_ say I'm not unemployed," he rushed out. "Freelance work isn't what I need. I need to find a project."

"So find one."

Blaine pulled back a little bit, onto his back. "Time for my secret?" At Kurt's nod he continued. "I don't want you to go on tour without me again." Kurt watched him, and he went on. "Last summer was - it was... transformative, Kurt. It changed everything about our lives. It brought us here -" he waved with one hand at their bedroom, at the wall with the original brick that was still half-hidden in badly applied plaster and some truly ugly wallpaper, and Kurt snorted back a laugh "- hey, I'm serious. It changed _everything_. But one of the things it changed is the way that I understand what tour is like for you. I don't want to miss it again, and if I'm working full-time...." He let it hang in the air, but Kurt got it - if he was working full-time, then they would go back to how it was before: Blaine manning the home fires and waiting for his return, and not being there every night. Even Kurt could admit that he didn't want that, that he'd come to crave Blaine's presence on the road even more acutely after last summer's wrap-up to the tour.

Kurt propped himself up on an elbow and said, "I think it's going to be different now. The rooms are bigger - there is no way I can talk to _everybody_ any more, and I don't think people will expect me to."

Blaine smiled, a little sadly, and said, "I know. That's what worries me. What are you going to do to yourself _on stage_ to make up for it?" He let that hang in the air while Kurt looked at him, a little horrified, and then he said, "And it's not even that. You know how to take care of yourself. But I... I _liked_ it, Kurt. I loved watching you like that. I don't want to miss it anymore, not unless I absolutely have to."

Kurt could feel his smile growing, from the germ of a knowing smirk to a full grin, and when Blaine quirked a brow he said, "I have one more secret."

Blaine's face was expectant, and Kurt stretches this moment out, too. "It wasn't supposed to be a secret, I was going to tell you this weekend anyway, but we got busy." He grinned down at Blaine a little longer, and at the elbow to his side, he leaned down so that they were closer and he said, "We're touring this summer, but then we're taking a break. Liam has been talking to friends he can trust, and he thinks it's time I recorded a proper album. We're taking next summer off for writing and studio time."

Blaine looked at him, and it wasn't the smile he was expecting. There was hope in his eyes, to be sure, but he looked wary. "And is that what you want?"

Kurt stretched out beside him. "I'm not a teenager anymore, and I'm not just a lost boy singing to other lost boys. I'm a married man, and we have a mortgage, and you want your career back. It's time for us to grow up, and... okay, last secret?" Blaine grinned, and then he said, "I can't wait to get ridiculously, embarrassingly old with you." Blaine's face broke into the wide open, sappy smile he loves so much, and then he finished it up with, "So I'm not touring every summer, at least for a little bit. We're trying something a little bit different for a while, going back to a more traditional release schedule, and then we'll see what happens."

Blaine kissed him then, slow and sweet, and when he pulled away, he said, still a little breathless, "So I can start looking for a job from September on."

"Yes. Four more months of playing at this bohemian lifestyle I've dragged you into, and then you can start wearing a suit again every day."

Blaine kissed his nose. "Better than that. Suits are so _New York_ , Kurt. Here it's all about the right black cardigan."

Kurt hummed into it and felt himself relax. "Well, you know how I feel about knitwear."

\---

After that it had calmed down, a little. Blaine was still a madman around the house, but with an end date in sight he'd learned to tone down his expectations of himself, and Kurt had started enjoying living in their house a little more. He tried to plan more from home after that, and their dinner conversations turned into long, rambling conversations over Google Maps. 

He and Finn picked back up their weekly phone conversations, and he spent the rest of the spring and the early summer getting back on the same page with him, sending files back and forth and arguing over the phone about arrangements. Kurt and Blaine met him at SFO when flew out for the Fourth of July and stayed until it was time for tour, because this year they were doing something different - they were starting out at home and then heading out to the Midwest. They would end with a show in Chicago, and it would be the first time Kurt played a city that large in the Midwest. 

When he told Blaine about it, he'd clicked out of Google Maps and straight over to facebook, where he started one hell of a messaging campaign, eventually contacting everybody they knew from high school, both McKinley and Dalton, who had ended up there. Kurt propped his chin on his hand, there on the kitchen table, and watched him do it, looked over the edge of the tablet and peeked at faces that have aged a little just like theirs have, and he smiled to himself and thought, "this is going to be one hell of a reunion."

\---

And now the first show of the new tour has come to an end, and it's been a good one. Kurt and Finn have used their stage time to talk about the tour, and Kurt's talked about their dates up and down the west coast and throughout the midwest, and he's told this set of strangers (for now – maybe not soon) just how much seeing their support means to him. They've taken their bows and stepped into the wings, and he can see Blaine leaning over the handrail to watch the room. And he can hear them - the crowds are on their feet, stamping and clapping and shouting, and finally Kurt shakes off the nerves at what he's about to do, takes a deep breath, and steps back out.

He doesn't take the piano, smiling a little as he walks past it. Instead he takes the mic from its stand and stands center stage and looks down while he waits for the light to find him and the room to quiet. 

When the shuffle of feet and the last of the applause fade, when all that's left is the hum of the air-conditioning and the gentle clink of glass from behind the bar, Kurt looks up and smiles. 

He brings the mic to his mouth and takes a breath and then he pauses, still gently grinning. He doesn't really want to say anything, he just wants to look at these people for a little bit longer, to appreciate where he is, what this has come to. Their faces are eager, upturned, like they're just _dying_ to know what he has to say to them.

And then he starts to sing, just his voice, alone and bare in a way he's never been before, never on stage. This is private, so personal, and he hopes Blaine understands.

_You think I'm pretty, without any makeup on_ , and the room erupts into cheers and then shushes itself, because this is new, nobody has ever heard him do _this_ before, and there are enough of them there who know him from the internet to know that that's true. It's a little bit silly and a whole lot campy but beyond that it's special, and they don't need anybody to tell them that. 

He sings a love song to his audience, cradles them gently in the palm of his hand and watches them sing quietly along with silly smiles on their faces. Kurt sings to the room, and then he looks up to the small VIP balcony and he sings to Blaine, stepping back to a time when it felt like it was just the two of them in a room full of happy, excited kids. Something like this, actually.

Blaine is smiling down at him, and he holds his gaze when he sings _You and I, we'll be young forever_.

That last note before the chorus hangs in the air, still and beautiful and filled with potential.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the story. 
> 
> Notice that I tagged it with both "future fic" and "alternate universe - future". When I was writing, I wasn't sure if I thought this was a plausible future for them or not; I'm still not. Either way, it was very fun to write. I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
